The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1887-08-10
The Yelled Prophet.

He dreamed that he was already in St.
Louis and stood on the balcony of the South
ern Hotel, waiting for the procession. The
streets below surged with enthusiastic citi-
zens. They all threw up their hats and
shouted, "Grover Cleveland for 1885,
1t sounded far off, as shouts do in dreams,
Yet the welcome words were distinctly intel
!igible.
Then a bust OF music announced that the
head of the procession was nearing the place
where the president stood. The guest of the
city started back as if in surprise. For it
was not the rich blare of full brass band
that he heard, but the sharp staccato of flies
and drums playing soldiers march.
The crowd III the street separated right
and left. Left. left. left LETT" came the
measured tread of the marchers, and the
head of the mighty procession swept by.
This was no carnival scene. The president
looked down the long line. but not float or
a barge or an categorical tableau on decor
ated wagon was III sight. No maskers, no
mummers. Nothing but men plainly dressed
in blue, most of them of middle age or be-
yond. marching always in grim earnest to the
music of fife and drum.
The guest of the city turned Indignantly
to the chairman of the committee on enter
tainment, who stood Just behind him.
What does this mean? Is an insult in
tended"
The committeeman shook his head urbane-
ly and put his finger to his lips. Then he
pointed down the line. 1t seemed to be end.
less.
Still they came, platoon after platoon.
LEFT. left. left left "a heavy, rhythmic
tread, punctuated now and then by the
clinking beckle of pair of iron-shod
crutches.
Some o9 the marchers wore empty coat
sleeves pinned upon the breast. Some of
them marched with difficulty. None of them
glanced up at the balcony where the guest of
the city stood. They moved straight on
ward, as if they were marching to combat
The president sighed. II did not know
there were so many of them" he said.
On they came-"left left left left ~
thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of
thousands of Union veterans. And every
few minutes hoarse cheers went up from the
crowd Of spectators that lined the way. The
| cheers were no longer for the man on the
balcony or for 1888. They were for the
bulet-riddled, tattered. ragged and blood
stained battle flags that were borne by, and
for the memory of the battle years in the
sixties.
The minutes seemed hours to the presi-
dent, and the hours seemed an eternity, while
he stood and reviewed the grim paraders,
who paid no heed to his presence. At last a
welcome sound relieved his ears, weary of
the monotonous tramping. He heard the
rumbling of wheels. "The Yelled Prophet"
somebody shouted, "here he comes -
AS the massive Car approached, drawn by a
score of white horses, the cheering below
became continuous. The guest of the city
leaned over the balustrade, the better to see
the pageant. The car was handsomely dec
GRATED with flowers and bunting. On the
summit of the construction stood a single
figure. man wearing as veil over his face
the flag of the United States.
The car stopped just opposite tue hotel
entrance The prophet slowly removed the
veil that had concealed his features and
stood face TO face with the president. He
said nothing. but stretched his arm forth and
pointed with a most significant gesture to
the long line of veterans ahead. their backs
now all turned to Grover Cleveland, all
marching steadily away from him into the
distance.
The president recognized the yelled
prophet. 1T is George BrinsLi, my substi-
tute :" he inurmured. He turned away and
awoke. 1t had been bad dream.-.Ne,c
lor1 SIN tdemocfatic).